


Beautiful Dreamer

by fannishliss



Series: Kink List [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Lingerie, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 06:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3477488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has agreed to move in with Bucky, and they ponder what life will be like together in their own apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyAngelique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAngelique/gifts).



> This work is for LadyAngelique, who prompted me to write "bottom skinny Steve in lingerie and Bucky using endearments."  
> I am more than happy to offer this fic for your enjoyment. :)

“Come along, now, Steve, you’ve done enough for one day,” Mrs. Barnes suggested kindly. 

Steve frowned and tried to sit a little straighter, pale and stubborn. He’d held up pretty well with the Barnes women and Bucky going through all his mother’s things, sorting and boxing and ordering one another about, but Bucky knew he needed a break from even the most helpful crowd. 

Bucky caught his mother’s eye and gave his head a slight shake. Becky caught the look and raised one eyebrow. Sylvie and Libby played on, oblivious, each delighted by the ribbons and paste jewels Steve had kindly given each of them to remember Sarah by. 

“I think I’ll stay here with Stevie, Ma,” Bucky said. “We’ll be fine with everything you brought.” 

Mrs. Barnes had packed three baskets full of cold meat, cheese, a dozen hard boiled eggs, three loaves of bread, two bottles of milk, four jars of soup, and several jars of preserves. She’d done even more for the covered dish supper after the funeral, earlier in the week. Steve Rogers would never starve, not if Winifred Barnes had anything to say about it, which she most certainly did. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” she said, offering a smile to Steve and a sharp-eyed look to Bucky. 

“Thank you so much for everything, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve said firmly. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow afternoon, after church, and help you finish up,” Bucky’s mother promised. 

“Thanks, Ma,” Bucky said, and gave his mother a warm hug. 

Steve held out his hand, and Mrs. Barnes brushed past it, giving Steve a rough embrace and kiss on the forehead. She was a tall woman with black hair and a strong build — a handsome woman, still very beautiful in her early forties. 

Emboldened, Becky hugged Steve and kissed him on the cheek, eyes flashing at Bucky as she did so. Steve blushed, but his smile was a little more genuine. 

“Thanks, Becky,” he said. “Don’t lose that bracelet in a back lot or nothin’,” he warned. Becky was devoted to backlot baseball and swore she’d never grow out of being a tomboy. Tall and strong like her mother, athletic and graceful like her brother, Becky’s only thought was how to get stronger and faster. 

“I swear, I’ll keep it forever, Steve,” Becky said. 

Sylvie and Libby lined up for their kisses and Steve graciously doled them out, smiling more than Bucky had seen all day. He was their favorite big brother, a constant fixture in their house and at their dinner table, but far more courteous and attentive to them than Bucky ever was. 

At last the Barnes women were gone and a stillness settled around Bucky and Steve. 

Steve heaved a sigh and glanced toward the kitchen. 

Bucky shrugged. “Soup?” 

Steve nodded, listless. 

Bucky was hungry, but Steve hadn’t had any appetite for days, and if he ate too much, he just threw it back up. Bucky inspected the jars — two jars mostly cabbage and navy beans; the other two seemed to be beef stew. After the lunch Mrs. Barnes had packed into Steve, better to go with the brothier cabbage soup. He emptied it out of the jar into a pot and soon had it hot. 

The smell of chicken broth and savory herbs filled the kitchen. Bucky rounded out his meal with bread and cheese and ate slowly, pacing himself to make sure that Steve would also finish at least one bowl. 

Steve ate mechanically, and Bucky could almost read the thoughts passing through his mind: how much he could get for the furniture. How much to ask for the Hoosier cabinet, only a few years old. Which of Sarah’s clothes to sell and which to give to the Salvation Army. 

“I been thinking,” Bucky said, “about finding us a place in Brooklyn Heights.” 

“Yeah?” Steve said, willing to be distracted. He’d fought the idea of Bucky finding them a place to share at first, but when the Barneses went along with Bucky’s plan, Steve stopped arguing. 

“A lot of those places are divided up small, so rooms are cheap,” Bucky said, “But they’re solidly built. And the air there is good.” The fresh breeze on the Heights would be good for Steve’s asthma.

“And no one will bat an eye at us there for living together, you mean,” Steve said. 

Bucky lifted a shoulder, daring Steve to deny it. 

Bucky did his best to keep up appearances with the ladies, but Steve and Bucky were it for each other, had been as long as they could remember. 

The Barneses were good people; they chose to see their son’s devotion to Steve as brotherly love, and they didn’t try to keep Steve away from Bucky or vice versa. Bucky was grateful as hell, because if he’d been made to choose there would be no contest. No one would ever come between him and Steve. 

“I’m ready for a place of our own, Steve,” Bucky said. “Just the two of us — can you imagine?” 

Steve gave a little smile. “Yeah,” he allowed. 

“I can,” Bucky said. “You wanna hear what I can imagine?” 

“Sure,” Steve said. He was the mouthiest little punk in the world, but when Bucky got sweet on him, he got tongue tied and couldn’t say a word, just listened and smiled and blushed all over, pink as a perfect rose. 

“We’ll find the perfect place,” Bucky mused, “and our neighbors won’t think one thing about two guys living together. We’ll be good neighbors, quiet and respectful and we’ll help the old lady carry her groceries and help the old man fix his car when it breaks down.” 

“Wow, you do have a pretty clear picture,” Steve said. 

“Those two nice young men, up in 4C, they’ll say, very nice boys,” Bucky said, accentuating his Brooklyn accent. His parents didn’t have the accent, being from Indiana. 

Steve laughed.

Bucky went on, a sparkle in his eyes, “They won’t care what we get up to in private. They’ll leave us alone, we’re just two decent hard-working young men.” 

“Sure,” Steve acknowledged. He had finished his soup, and he carried his and Bucky’s bowls to the sink. Bucky had already heated the water. Two blue willow soup plates, the pot, and the mason jar to return to the Barneses later: he washed everything with a little lye and hot water, rinsed with cold, and that was the washing up. 

“You’re getting all kinds of work,” Bucky mused on. “Sign jobs, cartoons, ad work — even a contract to illustrate a pulp. You’re drawing all kinds of horrid, slimy Martians.” 

“What a dream,” Steve laughed, drying his hands. 

“Meanwhile, I’m getting promoted to head mechanic at the garage. I’m like some kind of mechanical genius: listen to an engine for fifteen seconds, I can deduce the problem.” 

“Regular Sherlock Holmes,” Steve agreed. 

“We’re making so much money, Stevie, honestly,” Bucky said. 

“Steak every Friday —“ Steve contributed. 

“Meatloaf every other night and steak twice on weekends!” Bucky crowed. 

The two chuckled, happy in their dreams. Bucky came over to stand beside Steve at the sink, crowding in on him.

“But secretly, on the down low,” Bucky murmured, “you’re my baby doll.” 

“Am I?” Stevie asked, lowering his eyelashes. 

Bucky groaned. Steve’s eyelashes deserved to be outlawed. They ought to be registered as weapons. 

“You’re my pretty, pretty baby doll,” Bucky said, putting his hands on Steve’s bony hips. “All dressed up in silk, like you deserve — smelling so good, tasting so — “ 

“— much like chicken,” Steve laughed, just as Bucky tried to kiss him. 

“I want you, Stevie,” Bucky murmured, settling up against Steve. “Is that okay?” 

“Course it is, Bucky,” Steve said. 

“You ain’t too sad, or nothing?” Bucky asked gently. 

“Of course, I’m sad,” Steve said. “But you —you make me laugh a little, help take my mind off things. Holding you — knowing you’re here with me, still— it’s the only thing good in this world right now.” 

“Oh baby, I’ll never let you go,” Bucky swore. 

“I know you won’t,” Steve said, and lifted his mouth to Bucky. 

“Oh, baby, oh doll,” Bucky mumbled, as Steve parted his lips to let Bucky in. “You’re so sweet, god damn. Can I? Can I get you out of these dusty old duds and into something nice?” 

Steve’s mother had kept the apartment hospital clean, but it would always stir up dust to move so many things around. 

“Mmm,” Steve said as Bucky toyed with the top button of his shirt. 

“I’m so lucky, baby,” Bucky murmured. “Alla this, just for me.” 

“All yours,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky sweetly while Bucky struggled to take off their clothes. 

There was still hot water on the stove, just right for washing. Bucky got the washcloth and the Ivory soap and gave Steve a cat bath there in the kitchen, quickly doing the same for himself. They took turns washing each others’ backs and did their feet, armpits and asses last. 

“Perfect,” Bucky said, kissing Steve’s moist shoulder. “You pack away those things I got you?” 

Steve scoffed. “No, I left them out for your mother to find. Of course I packed them, they’re wrapped up in the bottom of my suitcase.” 

“Put em on for me, would you Steve?” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue. 

“You are such a doll,” Bucky said, his eyes black with anticipation. 

“You are such a lunatic,” Steve retorted, but laughed, and swished his naked ass a little as he disappeared into the bedroom. “Find some music on the wireless set,” he called over his shoulder. 

“This sounds good,” Bucky called. The station was playing a blues record, one of his favorites. He practiced a few steps while Steve made his mysterious preparations in the other room. 

“Ready,” Steve sang. 

Bucky strolled in, naked as a jay bird, holding their discarded clothes in front of him. He tossed them haphazardly toward Steve’s closet, and just stood looking at Steve wearing a big grin on his face, and nothing else. 

Steve had on the long silk robe and matching chemise that Bucky had bought for him with a tip he’d earned from one the garage’s wealthier customers. He had turned down the sheets on his bed, and arranged himself artfully, like a model, on the stool beside the dressing table: knees together, hands folded, demure, but the fire in his eyes showed the true colors of Steve Rogers.

“You look happy to see me,” Steve said with a smirk. 

“Over the moon,” Bucky said with a shiver. “Best thing I’ve seen in a long time.” 

“How long?” Steve chuckled. 

“Bout five minutes, I think,” Bucky answered. 

“Have yourself a seat on the bed,” Steve suggested, “so you can enjoy the full effect.” 

Bucky lay down and Steve stood. The peignoir flowed around him as he swayed from foot to foot, the delicate skyblue color setting off his eyes, his shining golden hair and his peaches and cream complexion. Steve didn’t know any fancy footwork — the dance halls were too smoky for his asthma, and fast footwork left him out of breath anyway — but his simple movements mesmerized Bucky all the more. 

“Christ, I love the way you look in that thing,” Bucky said. 

Steve didn’t say a word, just moved, getting closer, leaning over Bucky to caress his lips in a slow and decadent kiss. The robe fell open, and Bucky slipped his hands inside, moaning at the luxurious feel of the silk, smooth and warm as it clung to the contours of Steve’s body. 

“Don’t it feel good?” Bucky asked with a wide smile. 

“Yeah, it sure does,” Steve moaned. 

Bucky pulled Steve down beside him to kiss and stroked him through the silk until he couldn’t take it anymore. He peeled the robe back from Steve’s shoulders and bit lightly at Steve’s clavicles. “You’re so damn pretty, sweetheart, I can’t stand it.” 

“It’s mutual, Bucky,” Steve groaned. Together, on the bed, the difference in height didn’t make much difference between them, but Steve was still slender where Bucky was brawny and strong. Steve was tough and strong inside where it counted — and secretly, Bucky loved his tender exterior. He loved taking good care of Steve, petting and kissing and stroking till the both of them were crazy with desire. Bucky felt like he could do anything when he made Steve Rogers whine and beg. Sure he liked it when the pretty girls lined up to dance with him, but nothing made him feel like more of a man than Steve in his bed, dolled up pretty and coming apart at his touch. 

The chemise was not what you’d call modest on Steve. His nipples stood up under the silk and Bucky longed to bite them. The hemline came just to the top of his thighs, and his erection tented proudly under his cotton shorts. (Bucky didn’t have the money for flimsy silk undies for Steve — maybe someday.)

“Oh Steve,” Bucky moaned, kissing and biting gently, “there’s nowhere on you that’s not just sweet as sin. Mm, this fine neck.” 

“Watch it!” Steve warned. Bucky never left a mark, but Steve always worried. 

“I wouldn’t mark you up, that would be a crime,” Bucky said, sucking Steve’s earlobe with abandon, and smelling behind his ears. “Jesus, Stevie, what’s that smell behind your ears?” 

“Nothing,” Steve laughed. “Ivory soap?” 

“Nah, it’s pure essence of Stevie; Christ, it makes me feel almost drunk, you smell so good.” 

Bucky stuck his nose behind Steve’s ear and breathed in — comfort home sex good Stevie — it was everything in the world Bucky wanted, the only things that mattered to him in this world. 

“A fox can’t smell his own den,” Steve replied, an old saw he’d picked up somewhere. 

“You, sir, are a fox!” Bucky declared. He kissed his way down Steve’s neck to his chest. The proud nipples were waiting for him and he kissed and sucked and bit and made Steve hiss and cry with pleasure. 

“I ain’t sorry you ain’t a girl,” Bucky swore. 

“Good,” Steve murmured, sardonically. 

“I ain’t never gotta share these with no one,” Bucky said, licking and sucking. 

“Okay, Buck,” Steve said, gasping at the attention. 

By and by Bucky’s hand brushed Steve’s erection through his cotton pants. 

“Oh, god, Bucky, do that again!” Steve hissed. 

“Hm?” Bucky said, playing innocent as well as he could with his devilish face all flushed and happy. 

“Touch me,” Steve moaned. 

“What? Where?” 

“Jack me, you jerk!” Steve whisper shouted. 

Bucky laughed and threw Steve’s underpants clear across the room. Steve’s dick was almost as silky as the outfit he had on, but so hot and hard underneath the smooth skin, and there was nothing about it even remotely like a dame. 

Bucky ran his hand along the length of Steve, marveling that such a prickly guy, such a hardass in so many ways, had so many soft and delectable parts, and this was the crowning jewel. 

“It’s so pretty, it feels so pretty in my hand, Stevie, god, it gets me so hot to touch you like this,” Bucky moaned, beside himself. 

“Gets me pretty hot too, I gotta say,” Steve groaned. 

Bucky’s hands were rough and calloused, never quite free of the mechanic’s grease that lined his nail beds, but he touched Steve like a treasure. That hot weight in his palm, pressing against him, beating with desire — it drove Bucky crazy. 

“God, I gotta taste you,” Bucky said. 

“I ain’t stopping you,” Steve allowed. 

Bucky dove down. The silk chemise was soft under his forehead and under his hands. He swallowed Steve up, felt him pulse against his tongue, and every thrum of Steve’s desire echoed in his own groin. He loved to suck Steve’s dick, he loved it so much. He wasn’t exactly sure why. But it just felt right: making Steve feel good made him feel good. He craved it all the time, and made sure to go slow, savoring every moment when they got a chance to be alone together. Soon they’d have their own place and they could do this every night and every morning and every afternoon — whenever they wanted! It made Bucky’s head swim to think about unlimited access to Steve’s delicious body. 

Just like that, he wanted more. 

“Steve, baby, please, can I lick your ass?” 

Steve groaned, but Bucky could hear the heat and surrender in his half-complaint. They hadn’t been going that far for very long — they hadn’t had the privacy or the time. Steve still thought it seemed a little dirty, but that just made Bucky like it more — he liked feeling like he was doing something a little bad — and secretly, Steve did too, the way he moaned. 

Steve rolled over and pushed his ass up, spreading his knees and turning his face to the side. Lord, he looked like an angel in that beautiful silk peignoir, spread out like a sacrifice for Bucky to have his way with. 

Bucky kissed Steve’s tailbone and licked his way down. The little pucker was clean and tasted like soap, and Bucky licked, gentle and thorough, as Steve’s ass twitched against his probing tongue, finally letting go, letting Bucky in. Bucky thrust as well as he could while Steve panted, holding back his cries. 

“Can I, Stevie?” Bucky asked. 

Steve knew what he meant. Bucky always asked. He wouldn’t ever take more than Steve felt up to. 

“Do it, Bucky, god, I want it!” Steve whispered. 

Steve’s hissed words made Bucky so hot and shivery all at once. He found the vaseline under the mattress and slipped one finger inside Steve so easily they both groaned. The second took a little more persuading until Steve was loosened up and comfortable. Bucky soothed his fingers in and out, the heat inside Steve so seductive. 

Bucky made ready with a third finger, letting Steve press back against it at his own rate, slipping it in and out until Steve was ready.

“I’m gonna have you like this all the damn time,” Bucky threatened. “You’re just too sweet. I’ll take care of everything else, I don’t ask for nothing but you in my bed every night.” 

“Sweet talker,” Steve moaned.

“Look at you, Stevie, look how good you take it, so pretty,” Bucky praised, moving his fingers in and out, fascinated by the stretch of Steve’s hole. “You want my dick, baby? Want me all hot and hard up inside you as far as I can get?” 

“Yeah, Bucky,” Steve said. “Fuck me, I want it!” 

The crude language shocked Bucky and shook him to the core. He couldn’t wait another second. He pulled his fingers free as gentle as he could and slicked up his dick with the vaseline. 

Pushing in was a test. Steve was so tight, and Bucky knew it was paradise once he eased himself inside. It was torture going so slow, but he’d never hurt Steve being selfish. 

“Oh baby, lemme in, lemme in, I’ll be so good, lemme, ah, there, there!” Bucky chanted. The tight ring of muscle slipped over the head of Bucky’s dick and he glided slowly in. 

“Ohhhh,” Steve groaned, hissing and panting. It wasn’t easy yet. They’d only done it a couple of times and every time still felt new to Steve. 

“Is it good, baby?” Bucky asked, holding still. 

“Just, just a minute,” Steve said, trying to breathe. Bucky held still and just felt the pulse of his dick, keeping time with his racing heart inside Steve’s heavenly ass. 

Bucky felt the tight grip ease just a little. 

“There, there,” Steve said, “now careful.” 

Bucky felt around front for Steve’s dick, soft from the entry. 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Bucky crooned. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby.” 

“Naw, it doesn’t hurt,” Steve denied. “Just, you know, at first.” 

“Sh, baby, let me make it better,” Bucky whispered, palming Steve’s dick, squeezing it the way he knew Steve liked, till it stood up again, ready to go. 

Bucky pulled out just a little and soothed his way back in. 

“Oh, yeah, Bucky,” Steve moaned. 

“Like this?” Bucky asked. “You want it like this?” He tried to breathe along with Steve, moving as slow as he could, like a dream. 

“Ung,” Steve said, “Jesus, yes, right there. Right there, Bucky, Christ! that feels good.” 

Bucky didn’t really know what he’d done but when he did it again, Steve’s dick jumped in his hands, so he did it again and again. 

“Bucky!” Steve keened, quiet as he could, and spilled into Bucky’s palm, spasming around him. 

“Ah!” Bucky cried, and came so hard he saw stars. 

Steve lay panting in Bucky’s arms, only the slightest wheeze in his breath. 

Bucky softened and slipped out of Steve. He couldn’t help himself, he had to reach down and feel the soft hole that had felt like paradise around him. His fingers slipped inside so easy now, and Bucky shuddered, an aftershock and the thought that they’d soon live together, with easy access to one another whenever they felt like spooning. 

“Get my pants,” Steve ordered in a muzzy voice. Bucky stood on shaky legs and found the underpants he’d thrown, and he cleaned Steve up, front and back, kissing and coddling as he wiped. 

“God, Stevie, it’s like a dream,” Bucky said. 

“Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,” Steve mumbled. 

“Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee,” Bucky finished, nuzzling Steve’s neck as he relaxed into sleep. “Gone is the rude world, gone far away, Beautiful dreamer awake unto me — Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am amused to find that "Lingerie" is not one of the kinks in the kind of hard core kink list I am writing to. To a certain extent, this story would fulfill kink # 74, Silk Velvet Feathers Furs, though it does seem like I pretty much ought to use all four of those things to fulfill the kink. Silk is my favorite. 
> 
> What do you think, should I retroactively include existing stories on the kink list? There is already my story about Bucky and Peggy in a silk peignoir and nightgown -- a different set than the one Steve is wearing in this story. :D
> 
> And, should each story only count for the one kink that inspired it, or for all the kinks it contains? :D


End file.
